


We're Up All Night to Get Denny's

by windychimes



Category: Bastion
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Denny's at 1 in the morning AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windychimes/pseuds/windychimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kid and Zulf drag Zia to Denny's at one in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Up All Night to Get Denny's

**Author's Note:**

> So there was some tumblr post about how there should be more 'going to random diners at 1 in the morning' AUs. So I made one.
> 
> Yeah this is never getting updated it. I lost the second chapter when I was moving around files and I completely forget where I was going with this. Sorry.

_She sings as she plays her instrument even though she’s all alone. Her voice carries a tune through the air, with the wind, spreading to far off places unknown. The ground is ice beneath her but she does not move; she has to wait for someone, someone important, and if she leaves, he might not find her._

_Footsteps crunch in the snow behind her; she stops playing. You ready to go home? The voice is familiar, comforting. ‘Cause I am._

_She turns to look but he’s too blurry to properly see. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She tries again and says—_

Zia jerks awake as her cellphone goes off. She slaps her hand around her nightstand to find her phone and forgets to press ‘talk’ before she holds it to her ear. When she does, she barely manages to mumble a hello into the phone.

“Zia! Are you awake?” A pause. “Well, of course you are.”

Zia rolls her eyes. “What do you want, Zulf? Do you even know how late it is?”

She checks her clock. It’s barely past one. Well, it’s late enough.

“It’s hardly late,” Zulf says. Zia hears a horn honk somewhere in the background. “It’s barely morning.”

“It’s Thursday,” she says. Another honk. “We have school in the morning.”

“Technically, it’s Friday.”

“ _Zulf_.”

“Well, that’s not the point. The point is—yellow light! Slow down! No, don’t go through it!” Zulf pulls the phone away from his ear and yells something.

“Zulf, what are you even _doing_?”

The phone is still away from his mouth but Zia can still hear him yell. “If you don’t stop driving like that, _I’m_ going to drive.”

With a sigh Zia says, “I’m going back to bed. Goodnight, Zulf.”

“Wait, wait. I was calling to ask if you wanted to go to breakfast.”

“In the morning?” Zia is far, far too tired for this. “It’d have to be pretty early…”  
  
“No, I meant, right now.”

“Are you serious, Zulf? It’s one in the morning. Of course I’m not.” She pauses. “Are you with the Kid?”

“Maybe,” he says.

“Zulf…” It’s late, Zulf is acting like a fool, and he’s with the Kid. This can mean only one thing. “Are you drunk?”

“Of course not.” He hiccups. “…A little.”

Zia presses her face to her palm. “Goodnight, Zulf.”

“Zia, no, wait, I—” Zulf’s voice is cut off suddenly.

“Hey, Zia,” comes another voice. The Kid. “You wanna come to breakfast? Zulf’s payin’.”

Zia hears Zulf squeak his protest in the background. She has school in the morning and she’s tired and getting out of bed requires getting dressed in real clothes and not being warm and cozy but… That dream she had, the dream that’s quickly fading, it makes her want… makes her want…

“I’d love to,” she says. Her face goes red. Well, that was a little over-eager. “When will you be here?”

“We’re already here. Just go outside.”

Zia makes a face. Of course they were heading to her house before she even agreed. They were probably going to drag her out of her room, too. The Kid would just come in, make a bunch of noise, throw her over his shoulder, and leave. Probably wake up her father, too.

Zia shudders at the thought; she doesn’t even want to imagine how her father would react if a random Cael boy came into her house in the middle of the night.

Out her window, Zia can hear the crunch of gravel as he pulls into her driveway. So much for getting dressed. She pulls on a pair of pajama pants and shoes and runs to her window, only pausing to check her hair in the mirror. It’s a mess, but… well, it’s just the Kid and Zulf; it doesn’t really matter. She opens her window and hops out, waving to the boys as they drive up. The Kid even turned off his headlights for the occasion, although it was probably Zulf who suggested it. She goes to open the side passenger door, but it won’t budge. She tries again.

“Kid,” she whispers hoarsely, “it’s stuck.”

The Kid sticks his head out the window. “Again? Try kicking it.”

Zia kicks the door and tries opening it again. Nothing happens. “Kid, it’s still stuck.”

With a drawn out sigh the Kid comes out of the car. It’s a bit of a squeeze for him to get in and out, what with his big frame, but he’s gotten used to it. He slams his shoulder into the door and it pops open. Grinning, he says, “there ya go.”

A few weeks back the Kid bought a car. It was four-hundred dollars, and it shows; the doors stick, the seatbelts are kept in only by copious amounts of duct tape, the AC is either full blast or not at all, it’s covered in rust, and Zia is fairly sure there bloodstains, although the Kid assures her they’re not. It’s a beater car if Zia’s ever seen one, that’s for sure.

“We’re going to die,” Zulf says, very suddenly. “Your horrible driving is going to crash us, and this car is going to kill us all.”

The Kid squeezes himself back in and starts the car back up. “Naw,” he says, “we’re not all gonna die. Only you n’ me would die, Zia’s fine.”

The Kid drives off and they all sit in silence.

“So where are we going?” Zia asks as they fly down the highway.

“Denny’s,” the Kid says, switching lanes, firmly ignoring everything Zulf is saying. Zulf is very upset that the Kid is going seventy miles per hour instead of sixty-five as posted. Several times he tries to grab the wheel. The last time he does the Kid says, “Zulf, if you don’t stop tryin’ to drive, I’m gonna kick you out of the car. While it’s moving.”

Zulf looks at the Kid, gauges his sincerity, and leans back in his seat. Zia stares out the window and counts cars as they pass by. Sometimes… sometimes she feels like she’s intruding on something very strange with the Kid and Zulf. Moments like these, where they’re joking but not, it feels like she shouldn’t be there. Like they need to be alone, like they only want each other’s company. Maybe it’s just her mind seeing things that aren’t there. She hopes it’s just her mind seeing things that aren’t there.

They pull into the parking lot and the Kid rolls to a stop. Zia gives the door a kick and it pops open. She’d worry she’d damage the car, but… she’s pretty sure that car can’t actually be damaged anymore.

Zulf steps out of the car and promptly falls down. He blasphemes very loudly, then looks up at the sky and says, sorry.

“And that’s why we’re getting breakfast,” the Kid says as he walks over to the restaurant. He doesn’t bother to lock the car; if the car wasn’t such a necessity, it’d be a gift for someone to take it.

Zulf more or less has the hang of standing and walking by the time he makes it into the restaurant. It’s nearly empty, save for a few tables of drunken teenagers and other people of questionable sobriety. As they wait for the hostess to come over, the Kid looks Zia up and down and says, “cute pajamas.”

Zia blushes and says, “thank you.” Zulf is staring at her very intently and Zia asks, “what is it?”

“Are you wearing a bra?” Zulf blurts out, entirely too loudly. The restaurant turns to look. The Kid follows Zulf’s gaze. Zia crosses her arms her chest and shrinks down; she never wears a bra to bed, and she figured the sweater was big enough and thick enough to hide that.

Apparently not.

The hostess, and older woman with greying hair and a scowl, comes over and she, too, looks Zia up and down, but not to take in her attire. She does the same to Zulf. “Just you and your _Ura_ friends tonight?” she spits.

“Yeah, just us,” the Kid says, and grabs the menus as he walks over to a booth. Zia and Zulf look at each other, not sure what to do, then follow the Kid’s lead. They always end up doing so, and neither is quite sure why.

_Because he’s the leader. He’s always been the leader._

Zia shakes her head. What a strange thought.

Zulf sits next to the Kid as they slide into the booth. Zia opens the menu to hide her frown. “You think they have beer here?” the Kid asks as he flips through his own menu. He looks to Zulf. “We haven’t finished our contest.”

Zia puts her face in her hands. “You guys were having a drinking contest? _Again_?”

“ _No_ ,” says Zulf. Zia gives him a deadpan look. “…We were studying.”

“And studying includes drinking?”

Zulf looks anywhere but at Zia. “We took a break.”

The Kid closes his menu with a frown. “They don’t have beer here.”

Zia groans. She should have stayed home. Before she can further argue with Zulf the waitress comes up, a Cael woman with a big smile and sparkling eyes. “You kids ready to order?” she asks.

“Pancakes,” is all the Kid says, and hands her the menu. Zia orders the same. It’s Zulf turn, and all he does is stare at the waitress.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and then puts his face in his hands. “I mean, you’re very lovely, no, I mean—”

The waitress throws her head back and laughs. “Well, aren’t you a sweetie. You want pancakes like your friends?” Not taking his face out of his hands, he nods. “I’ll be back with some waters.”

She leaves, and Zulf lets his head hit the table. “Why am I drunk.”

The Kid grins. “You’re fun when you’re drunk.”

“ _Leave me alone._ ”

The waitress comes back with the water and Zulf carefully avoids her gaze. When he does look up she’s leaning over, low enough to give everyone an eyeful of what’s down her shirt and Zulf squawks and hides his blushing face in his hands once more. She smiles and saunters off, shaking her hips purposefully, and Zia’s pretty sure Zulf’s going to give her a big tip.

More than one type of big tip if he could.

“Think she likes you,” the Kid says, elbowing Zulf in the side. “She ain’t much older than us, either, looks like.”

“I want to go home,” Zulf whines. He puts his head back down on the table. “This was a horrible mistake.”

The Kid laughs and slaps Zulf on the back. Truthfully, Zia feels much the same; it’s late, she has school tomorrow, and the prospect of eating breakfast of questionable taste with two drunken idiots is even worse than it sounds. She stretches and yawns, contemplating going back to sleep right in the booth.

“You cold?” the Kid asks suddenly.

Zia blinks and shakes her head. “No, why?”

The Kid scratches his cheek and looks off to the side. “Just wonderin’, that’s all.”

Zulf looks up and tsks. “Zia,” he says, “you might want to wear a jacket.”

Zia looks down and quickly folds her arms across her chest. This sweater is definitely thinner than she remembers. The Kid shrugs off his green-and-white letterman and hands it to her. “Here, this should keep you warm.”

Zia puts it on and zips it up. “Thank you,” she mumbles, her cheeks burning red. A silence falls over them, and Zia keeps her eyes on the kitchen door for when the waitress will return.

“I really like both of you,” Zulf says out of the blue, finally lifting his head from the table. “You both… you both mean a lot to me.”

Both Zia and the Kid are quiet over the confession, processing it. He may still be half-drunk, but there has to be some validity to it. Probably. Maybe.

The Kid finally says, “yeah, I like you too. And Zia.” He nods to her. “M’glad we’re friends.”

There’s something about being included in this moment that makes Zia’s heart beat twice as fast. Like she’s not a third wheel, or an intruder, but a part of it. A puzzle piece that finally fits. She smiles wider than she has in a long time and says, “yeah, I really like you guys, too.”

The waitress comes out with their food. When she places it down on the table, she gives Zulf a wink before leaving. Zulf barely manages to stop a squeak and as soon as she leaves sinks under the table. “I hate my life,” he moans.

The Kid takes a bite of pancake. “It ain’t so bad. You got a pretty girl likin’ you; that ain’t bad at all.”

Zia turns the phrase over a few times in her mind before choosing to ignore it. “You should get her number,” she says, and takes a bite of her own pancakes. She makes a face. “These aren’t very good.”

The Kid takes another bite. “I think they’re good,” he says. He looks to Zulf. “What about you?”

Zulf is still hiding under the table. The Kid grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him up. “Eat your food,” he says, “since you’re payin’ for it and all.”

Zulf scowls. “Why do _I_ have to pay for everyone’s food?”

“I only got gas money, and Zia doesn’t have her wallet. You lost the contest, anyway.”

“I didn’t lose! We didn’t even finish! You—” Zulf rubs his face. “Never mind. This is pointless.”

The Kid nods, and they fall back into silence. The pancakes may not be that good, and it may be too late, and Zulf may be too drunk, but… Zia can’t help but smile. Something about being with these people, as ridiculous as they may be, feels right. It feels like it’s supposed to be the three of them, like it’s always been the three of them. Like that’s been the plan all along.

_There are four of them, her and three others, three who are familiar but distant all at once. A dark-haired man takes her hand and they sing together, a song Zia knows but doesn’t. Something beautiful that makes her heart hurt, something from a half-remembered dream. If she could just see his face…_

“Zia? Zia, are you there?”

Zia blinks back into focus and Zulf is waving his hand in front of her face. “We’re leaving.” Zia looks down and all their plates are empty, even her own, and the money is on the table.

“Right,” Zia says, standing. She looks to Zulf. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Zulf rolls his eyes. “Blame the Kid,” he says.

The Kid beams at him, pleased at having a chance to get Zulf drunk, annoy him, and get a free breakfast out of the deal. All in all, the Kid’s the winner tonight.

As they leave the restaurant, the waitress sticks her head out the door, a receipt in hand. “Yoo-hoo, you forgot your receipt!”

Zulf turns around, only a few feet from the door. “Thank you, but I’m alright.”

“No, honey, I think you want this receipt.”

One eyebrow cocked, he takes the receipt. Looking at it, his whole face goes red. The waitress hops out and gives him a kiss on the cheek and a wink. “Call me sometime. I’ll be waiting.”

She skips back inside with a laugh and goes back to work. Zulf stands in front of the door for a very long time, grinning like a fool, looking back and forth between the receipt and the door, over and over again.

Zulf is glowing on the ride home. The Kid goes seventy-five and he doesn’t even bat an eye. He keeps looking at the receipt, then up to the roof to the car, then back down again. Zia’s not sure if it’s really cute or really disgusting.

“Told you she liked you,” the Kid laughs. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Shockingly, Zulf doesn’t say anything back. He just keeps looking at his receipt and grinning. “Nacie,” he finally hums. “What a nice name.”

The Kid kills the headlights as he rolls into Zia’s driveway. “G’night,” he says, looking over his shoulder. He flashes her a grin. “We should do this again.”

Zia gives him a dopey smile back. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Maybe not so late next time.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” The Kid laughs before he turns away and pats a sleeping Zulf on the head. “Gotta take him home now. See ya tomorrow.”

“See you,” Zia says. She gives the door a kick and hops out, closing it as softly as possible. There are no lights on, so her father probably isn’t up, but… better safe than sorry. She opens her window and climbs in as the Kid drives off, pleased with her sneakiness. There’s no way her father will ever find out.

As soon as she’s inside her light turns on. Her father stands in her doorway, arms across his chest, a scowl on his face. “Zia,” he says, voice quiet but his words still powerful, “where have you been?”

And Zia says, “oh, shit.”


End file.
